Page 40 of A Song of Air (Fae Elementals #4)
I ona had to blink twice . Then several more times, if only to make sure she was not as crazy as she felt. For a moment she thought her mind was playing tricks on her. Because there was absolutely no way she was staring at someone from her not-so-distant past.
But after gaping at him for what felt like several moments, she had no choice but to accept that George was here .
The last time she had seen him had been in Porir when she’d snuck through the streets of the city as it was being invaded by the emperor’s soldiers. He’d given her fake documents for both her and her familiar so she could travel between kingdoms without being stopped by soldiers.
That had been so long ago now, but she hadn’t forgotten his face. Not that she ever could. George Apidae was eccentric, always had been, and even though he’d so obviously changed his appearance, she could still recognize him in all his flower-crown glory.
Where he’d once had bronze skin, it now shimmered blue with smatterings of gold here and there. His entire body emitted a light glow like an ancient will-o-the-wisp. His long, dark locs were the same, tapering down his shoulders and waist. Though now, they moved against his shoulders as if they were living beings. He was still as graceful as she remembered, those long and shapely legs crossed, one over another, golden eyes shining like they held all the world’s secrets.
He’d always been a mystery, and while Iona had trusted him to get her black-market deals back in Porir, she would never trust someone like him with her life.
“Iona Wylde.” George leaned back in his chair, ever the king on his throne, surrounded by mountains of clutter and rare objects. The inside of the tent mirrored what the inside of his factory back in Porir looked like. Fae bones strung up with rope, fluttering pixie wings in glass jars, glimmering liquids that looked as vile as poison, and floating animal heads above his table... “Come to grace me with your presence.” He smiled a feral gesture.
Those words and thick accent reminded her of the last time she’d seen him.
“George, what are you doing here?” She wasn’t sure her shock would abate.
“I go by Kerrigan now,” he corrected with a smile. “George was far too simple for a Fae of my caliber, don’t you think?”
“Arrogant as ever, I see.”
“What you call arrogance, I call confidence.”
She could feel the gazes of those around them volleying back and forth between herself and George. Then she felt the press of her mate’s hand against her lower back.
“How do you two know one another?” he asked slowly.
“George was my supplier in Porir,” Iona said.
“Kerrigan,” George corrected with a flash of a warning smile.
Iona rolled her eyes.
“You know this Fae?” Arlo asked.
Iona couldn’t quite make out what was in the half-Fae’s tone, but she knew she didn’t like it at all. She fought back the glare she wanted to aim in his direction.
George sat forward, steepling his ringed fingers together. The gold shone against his bright blue skin, the copper, iron one standing out to Iona just like it always had. “Iona and I were almost-friends.”
“Almost.”
George smirked at her, like he was recalling fond memories of the two of them, though she didn’t remember them fondly at all. She remembered his creepy lair, his ridiculous prices for the most basic of services, and the way he spoke in riddles and tried to swindle Fae into making deals with him.
“We need your help,” Iona said.
George’s smile kicked up even wider. “Ah.” He leaned backwards. “You’ll recall I do not come cheap.”
Oh, she remembered far too well. He would take years’ worth of wages for forged documents.
Beside them, Arlo let out a low warning sound. “You’ll not charge us,” he said haughtily. “You are in my camp, living off of my—”
George flicked his fingers disrespectfully in Arlo’s direction. “Shut up,” he said.
Arlo blinked.
Iona held back her laughter.
“You are no owner of mine, Arlo Blackwood. I may stay at this camp, but you do not lay claim to it, no more than the humans lay claim to the Fae or our lands.”
Iona peeked over and saw Arlo’s face go red with rage or embarrassment or both.
“How dare—”
George turned away from Arlo, dismissing him quite easily. “Prince of the Fae.” His attention was directed at Valerio. “An honor to be in your presence, my liege.”
Valerio’s eyes shone with mirth and perhaps even the slightest bit of fondness. “I thank you, Kerrigan.”
Iona snorted.
George’s gaze cut to hers. “See? He is not disrespectful.”
“Look, enough niceties. We need your help.” Iona leveled her stare with his. “Bryson and Weylyn fell through a mushroom circle. We think they may be in the Unseelie Court. We want to know if you have anything that could help us bring them back.”
George leaned back once again. His every movement was slow and deliberate. There was something calculated shining in his eyes, a clarity in there despite his blown pupils. He touched his fingers, twirling that iron ring round and round against his digit.
Finally, he let out a sigh. “I cannot help you,” he said.
Iona blinked.
Malika let out a sound of disbelief. “What do you mean you can’t help us?!”
George cut his gaze to Iona’s sister, all the mirth melting from his whole body in an instant. “I mean I cannot help you, even if I wanted to.”
“Why not?” Iona felt her voice growing smaller.
George looked at her again, and this time the affection in his gaze was obvious. “My sweet Iona Wylde...” He lifted his hand as if he wanted to reach out and caress her cheek. She swore she felt a tug on her being as he did so, but it was gone as soon as his hand dropped into his lap. “Besides having nothing to help you get them back, I would not help even if I could.” He looked at all of them, both apologetic and almost gleeful. “The Unseelie Court is a wild and dangerous place. Even more dangerous, I dare say, than the humanlands themselves.” He looked at Iona again, and this time she felt the truth of his words pierce her down to her core. “If the vicious and deadly monsters of the Unseelie do not get to your friends first, they will wish for death a thousand times over if the royals find them. I am sorry, but they are lost forever.”